


Hold On To Hope

by Miko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronal Issues, F/F, Oral Sex, Romance, Science, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: After the fall of Overwatch, Lena Oxton, a.k.a. Tracer, was left alone and adrift with no support. There's only so much she can do to maintain her chronal accelerator by herself, and when it finally starts to fail, she's staring into the jaws of her worst nightmare. Death would be kinder than an eternity of being cut off from life, forever out of reach of the world.With no ability to contact Winston or the others who'd developed the accelerator, Lena's only hope is the daughter of the scientist who developed the original Slipstream technology. Emily is determined to help, but Lena knows she's asking the other woman to do the impossible.OfcourseLena would fall for a smart, sexy, incredible woman just when she's about to lose any chance of ever being able to touch anyone again.





	1. Chapter 1

Sitting cross-legged on the worn wooden floor of her tiny King's Row flat, Lena Oxton, the former Overwatch Agent known as Tracer, looked down at the mess of sparking electronics in despair. Her chronal accelerator, the device that kept her synced in time and able to interact with the rest of the world, had been acting up lately. 

Not surprising, since it had been years since the fall of Overwatch and she'd had nobody to help her with repairs and upkeep since then. She could do basic maintenance and field repairs, Winston had insisted on teaching her that much, and she'd been eager to learn. The giant gorilla wasn't always around to fix it if things went wrong on a mission, and she was understandably paranoid about going too long without it.

Sometimes she was blinking when she didn't mean to, which was awkward enough. Today, she'd nearly caused an accident, could have killed multiple people, when she'd unexpectedly rewound back to the middle of a pedestrian crosswalk. _After_ the light had changed, putting her smack in the midst of rush hour traffic.

Whatever was wrong with it this time, it was far outside her area of understanding. Lena's attempts to repair it had succeeded in one thing: it was no longer malfunctioning. It was completely fried.

The Sword of Damocles had been hanging over her head since the day the Slipstream went sideways into time, but now there was a ticking time bomb attached to the slender thread that prevented the blade from descending. Lena could go a day or so without the accelerator, maybe even two, but every second that passed put her that much more at risk of a chronal slip. And once she was out of sync, getting back by herself would be impossible.

Though she'd never suffered from anxiety, the one thing that could be guaranteed to make Lena panic was the memory of the hellish days she'd spent after the accident. Drifting outside of time, invisible and intangible, forever one microsecond away from the rest of the world. Even when she had finally made contact, managed to tell Overwatch she was still alive and trapped, it had taken what felt like countless eons before they were able to stabilize her enough to actually communicate.

Using the technology that powered the Slipstream as a starting point, Winston had built the chronal accelerator out of 'miracles and rainbows', as he'd once wryly put it. He was literally the only person in the world who understood the technology - he'd had to effectively rewrite several laws of physics in order to make it work. And now, thanks to the fall of Overwatch years ago, he was completely outside her reach. She had no idea where to find him, or even where to start looking.

Pushing to her feet, Lena paced back and forth across the short length of the room, trying to think of other options. She ran her hands through the spiky strands of her hair, as if tugging at or rearranging the locks could somehow jar new ideas loose. Was there anyone else who had even a prayer of being able to figure out how to fix the accelerator?

One particular shot on her framed photo wall caught her eye, and she stopped to examine it. The now-famous photo of her posing in front of the Slipstream, mere minutes before she began the final checks for the test flight takeoff. She looked so damn young and cocky, even to her own eyes. So sure of her own superiority, confident her brilliance would get her out of any sticky situation. Tracer had been the best pilot in the world, age notwithstanding - still was. But now she was all too aware of the fact that the universe didn't always reward you just because you thought it should.

She liked to think she'd traded cocky for cheerful, brashness for determination. But apparently, the universe had decided to kick her in the arse one more time, just in case she hadn't learned her lesson yet.

Turning away, she rubbed at her eyes. If she couldn't fix the accelerator, or find someone who could, her remaining time in this world might be counted in hours. And the worst part was that she wouldn't die - she'd almost prefer that. No, she would be lost, a ghost. Alive, but not living. _Forever_.

Then she froze, mid-step, as a new thought occurred to her. Spinning around, she snatched the picture off the wall. The Slipstream's technology was what had led to her chronal disassociation in the first place. That same technology was what Winston had used as the base for the accelerator, but he hadn't been involved in developing the plane.

Which meant the person who _had_ developed the Slipstream tech, Professor Gerald O'Keeffe, was the one person other than Winston who might stand a chance of figuring out how to repair the accelerator.

Clutching the photo in one hand and the misfiring accelerator in the other, Lena ran for the door, cursing her inability to blink forward that much faster.

* * *

A few hours later, Lena walked up to the front of a modest single-family dwelling in a suburb outside Dublin. Professor O'Keeffe had retired after the Slipstream disaster, his life's work in shambles, believing he'd killed an innocent young test pilot. 

One of the first things Lena had done, after Overwatch created the accelerator that locked her back in sync with real time, was to reach out to him. He'd cried at the sight of her, overjoyed, and promised that if ever she needed him, he'd be there for her. 

She bloody well needed him now, and no doubt about it.

Heart pounding hard enough to make her chest tremble, clutching white-knuckled at the bag holding the accelerator, she reached out with the other hand and pressed the buzzer. Please, let him be home. Already she could feel the world going fuzzy at the edges, infinitesimal blips of skipped time causing her motions to become jerky and uncoordinated.

The door swung open, and a pretty red headed woman stood in the foyer. She was several inches taller than Lena, with long, straight hair and prominent freckles spattered across her Irish-pale cheeks. Her features were strong rather than beautiful, but held a depth of character that Lena found far more attractive than shallow physical perfection.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, her voice low and smooth, a soft Gaelic lilt to the words that turned the simple sentence into a song.

Any other time, Lena would have allowed herself a moment to admire, maybe even tried to strike up a flirtation. As it was, she clutched the bag to her chest and blurted out, "I need to speak to Professor O'Keeffe. Please, it's an emergency."

Frowning, the woman looked her up and down, probably wondering why such a young-looking girl wanted to see the old, crotchety professor. Lena knew she didn't look like much at the moment. Not only did the chronal disassociation keep her an eternal teenager, but she probably had soot and burnt spots on her clothes from attempting the repairs, not to mention the way she'd been raking her hands through her hair and undoubtedly leaving it a rat's nest.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, and sounded genuinely regretful. "My father passed away last year. Is there something I can help you with?"

For a long moment Lena stared at her, the words echoing in her head, refusing to make any sense. Passed away. He'd passed away. He'd _died_ , which meant he bloody well wasn't going to be fixing anything any time soon.

Breathing out a harsh sigh that she barely prevented from becoming a sob, Lena rubbed at her burning eyes with the back of her free hand. She would _not_ cry, damn it. Lena might not technically be 'Tracer' anymore, but she had a reputation to maintain. She would not let the world see her go out downcast and defeated.

"Not unless you happen to be an expert in chronal physics," she said, forcing a note of false cheer into her voice, as if the words were only a joke. "Thanks, though."

"As a matter of fact, I am." The woman gave her a crooked smile. "Dr. Emily O'Keeffe. I picked up my father's research where he left off. Not many people know about it, though. Who are you, again?"

"Oh!" Lena realized she'd expected that anyone connected to the professor would instantly recognize her. "Lena Oxton. Sorry, should've said that already. You really understand the tech he designed? Uh..." Belatedly she remembered that the chronal tech and everything to do with it - including her unique disassociation problem - had been highly classified. "What's your security clearance? I don't even know if I'm allowed to talk about this stuff."

At this point, she didn’t really _care_ , but she figured she ought to at least make a token effort.

"Higher than yours, these days," Emily assured her, stepping back and gesturing for her to come in. "Ms. Oxton, of course. I apologize for not recognizing you. Da used to talk about you all the time - he was so happy when you contacted him to let him know you were alive. What's wrong? You seem distraught."

The shift from 'father' to the more informal 'da' matched the new warmth and sympathy in the woman's voice. Lena stepped inside, trying not to tremble in relief. "Distraught's one word for it. How much do you know about my disassociation?"

"Some. Probably not all." Emily led the way deeper into the house, to a solarium filled with light and plants - and holoscreens covered in complex equations and detailed graphs of all kinds. Those screens looked so much like the professor's lab always had that Lena relaxed, convinced maybe Emily _could_ help her.

"Even for da, Overwatch wouldn't release much of the information about what exactly went wrong with the Slipstream, or how they solved your problem." Emily turned and planted her hands over her hips, clearly put out about the omission. "I know he quit on them after the accident, and I guess that revoked a lot of his clearances, but still. They owed him that much."

Well, that finally explained why the professor hadn't been part of the team trying to save Lena, back then. Knowing his temper, he'd probably told them to go to hell and slammed shut the doors of communication, before they could even get far enough to tell him she was alive and needed help. No wonder he'd seemed _so_ apologetic when she'd finally contacted him.

Reaching into the bag, she pulled out the sparking mess of electronics that was currently her accelerator. "Overwatch designed a device, based on your father's tech but considerably advanced from there, meant to keep me locked into the right time. But it's been acting up, and everything I've done to fix it has made it worse, and now..."

Gaze sharp, Emily reached out to take the accelerator from her, examining it from all angles. "Of course. Bet nobody gave a single thought to the fact that dissolving Overwatch left you completely cut off from help, did they?"

"World governments never did much care about the problems of the individual people," Lena agreed. She would never stop being bitter at the way the U.N. had painted them all as criminals, as if the sins of Blackwatch meant every good thing Overwatch ever accomplished stopped meaning anything. Granted, Overwatch _had_ been suffering some major internal problems, and maybe dissolving it had even been the right thing to do. Maybe. 

But turning all of the loyal agents out on their arses without so much as a 'thanks for saving our lives all those times' - let alone a pension or severance pay - was a hurtful pill to swallow. She often wondered what had happened to the others. 

Where was Genji, for example? If anyone needed the help of Overwatch's scientific and medical team more than Lena did, it was the highly experimental cyborg. What would _he_ do when his systems started to fail?

Emily placed the accelerator on a table and reached absently for a multitool, using it to poke through the exposed wires. Lena hadn't bothered putting the cover plates back on after she'd realized there was no hope of her fixing the bloody thing. The other woman had an intense, focused expression. Lena recognized it well from her time with the Slipstream development team, and later from Winston, Torbjorn, and Angela. 

"This isn't just a simple wiring failure, I assume? I can see somebody's already done several patch jobs on the physical components. You?" She glanced up to see Lena's nod. "Not half bad. Not great, but your work didn't cause the problem. I need to get a look at the programming, but I'm guessing this was some kind of algorithm cascade failure. Tell me exactly when and how the problems started."

The relief of knowing she hadn't caused the crash was a huge weight off Lena's shoulders. She'd been fretting about exactly that possibility from the first day she'd realized that she was going to have to do this alone from now on. Sliding into one of the desk chairs, she propped her chin on her hand and started giving Emily a rundown of every problem she'd had with the accelerator since leaving Overwatch.

In her debriefing after King's Row, her first mission as a field agent, Lieutenant Reinhardt had failed to stifle a noise of disbelief after the first few sentences of Tracer's concise, detailed report. Commander Morrison's eyebrow had twitched, but he'd also been doing a bad job of hiding a smile, so she was inclined to think maybe the twitch was aimed at Reinhardt's incredulity rather than at Tracer.

Only fair, considering Reinhardt wasn't exactly known for _his_ ability to give a brief and unembellished account of events.

What only Commander Morrison seemed to remember was that Lena had been chosen as the test pilot for the Slipstream, despite being the youngest pilot ever to join Overwatch. She hadn't gotten that position by being sloppy or careless. Half her training for that mission had been focused on making sure she'd be able to provide accurate, relevant information about how the flight was going, beyond what the sensors and data relays could tell the scientists. Just because she was hyper didn’t mean she wasn’t paying attention.

Emily tipped her head in surprise as Lena started now, but soon was nodding along in acknowledgement and occasionally jotting notes on a holopad. The whole time she was also examining the innards of the accelerator, somehow splitting her attention effectively. At least, Lena hoped it was effective.

At the end of the recitation, Emily looked up at her with sympathy in her green eyes. "Do you realize you're..." She paused, appearing to struggle for words.

"Glitching?" Lena sighed. "Yeah, been doing it since around when I got to Ireland. If it's noticeable to a normal person now, then it's getting worse fast." She had been aware of it thanks to the sixth sense she'd developed for time, due to her unique relationship to what Winston called the fourth dimension. But she hadn't drawn any odd looks on the walk here from the jetstation, so she assumed the mini timeskips hadn't been visible to the naked eye until now.

"How long do you have?"

"A day, maybe?" Lena worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, then forced herself to stop. "Possibly two if I can stay really focused on the here and now - and not sleep."

Emily rubbed at her brow with one hand, a pinched expression on her face like she was fighting a headache. "You're asking me to rework the laws of physics as I know them in a few hours. I'm all but literally reinventing the wheel, here."

"I know." And she knew it was impossible. It had taken Winston weeks to develop the device in the first place. Granted, Emily had a functioning prototype to examine - even if it wasn’t actually functioning at the moment - which would cut huge chunks of time off the process. Even so, Lena was begging for a miracle. "I won't blame you if there's nothing you can do. I won't even blame you if you're not willing to try. This isn't your problem."

A mulish look crossed Emily's features, a glint of stubborn determination in her eyes. "The hell it isn't. This is the culmination of my father's life's work, and everything I've spent my life studying. Be damned if I let it fall apart now. Whatever you need to do in order to buy me as much time as possible, do it." She paused, and offered a conspiratorial smile. "Also, get me some strong coffee, will you? I hate the stuff, but my American classmates got me hooked on it for long study sessions. This is going to be the all-nighter from hell."

For the first time in weeks - maybe in all the years since Overwatch fell - Lena's heart lifted. "Righto," she chirped, and tossed a jaunty salute at the other woman. "Whatever you need, I'm your gal!"


	2. Chapter 2

There were a few tricks Lena had learned for keeping herself grounded in the literal here and now, over the years. Not because she'd been trying to avoid using the accelerator, far from it. In the beginning, with the first few iterations of the device, it hadn't been terribly stable. Eventually she'd learned to use those instabilities to her advantage, harnessing them into the power that made her nearly unstoppable on the battlefield, but early on, they'd been terrifying.

Emily gave her free rein of the house, so long as Lena didn't disturb her work. The backyard was hardly more than a postage stamp, but that was a lot more clear space than Lena was used to having these days, and she put it to good use with some vigorous calisthenics. Though the activity meant she had to fight the urge to blink around, the ache and burn of physical effort helped focus her attention on her body. She pushed herself to her limits and past them, welcoming the cramps and strains as one more method of making her _feel_.

It shamed her how relatively little effort counted as 'past her limits', however. In Overwatch she'd trained every day, by herself and against dangerous, difficult opponents like Genji Shimada. Never once had Genji allowed her to slack off even the slightest - once she'd mastered rewinding, he'd taken to punishing slips of concentration and effort by striking some pretty serious blows. Literally driving his point home.

Since the fall of Overwatch, however, Lena had let herself become far too lazy. She was out of shape, to put it mildly. There hadn't seemed any real reason to push herself, knowing there would never be any more missions, but now she vowed that she would find a way to get back into a regular routine.

Assuming she stayed synced with time longer than another few hours, that was.

When her body cried for relief and she could push herself no further without actual harm, Lena went and took a long shower. She turned it up as hot as she could bear it, concentrating on the feel of each stinging drop of water as it struck her skin, the flush of heat that swept through her body. When the water began to run cold, she savoured that sensation as well, shivering beneath the icy rain until she could stand it no longer.

Once dry, she headed for the kitchen with grim determination. Lena was no kind of cook, having spent her life training in very different areas than the domestic arts. But she knew how to follow a basic recipe, and cooking was a good way to focus on her senses, holding tight to reality.

And, she realized halfway through making pasta, she was storing up as many sensory memories as she possibly could, cramming them into her remaining hours. If she disassociated fully, she might never again experience anything in a physical sense, existing as a ghost at best and a lost shadow at worst. If her memories were all she'd have to hold on to, she would bloody well cram in as many as she could.

Grimly determined, she started throwing the ingredients for decadent brownies together as well. No _way_ was she not going to experience chocolate one last time.

When the food was done, it occurred to Lena that Emily hadn't emerged from the workshop all day. If she was anything like the various scientists and engineers Lena had known through Overwatch, that meant she hadn't stopped to eat or drink anything, either. 

Though she'd promised not to interrupt, and was understandably hesitant to break the woman's concentration, Lena scooped two portions of dinner and dessert onto plates, then made a pot of tea as well. Putting the whole load onto a serving tray she unearthed from a cupboard, she made her way back to the lab.

"Emily?" Poking her head into the room cautiously, Lena found the other woman bent over the accelerator, muttering to herself. She showed no signs of having heard, so Lena raised her voice and tried again. "Emily! I've made dinner."

Blinking and shaking her head, Emily seemed to emerge from a sort of trance and looked around. "Ms. Oxton? I thought I told you not to interrupt me."

"Call me Lena, please. You need to eat," Lena said, making her tone as firm as she could. She drew on memories of Angela Ziegler, when the doctor had been chivying her various charges into taking proper care of themselves. "I appreciate that you're working on a deadline, believe me! But you'll think better if you're not starving."

"Starving? I'm not..." A loud, gurgling growl broke through Emily's protest, and she blushed. "Er. All right, perhaps I'm a bit peckish. I suppose it'll give me a chance to ask you for some more information, anyway."

She led the way into a small, formal dining room. There were framed photographs on the wall, many of them featuring Emily and Professor O'Keeffe along with several others who bore a striking resemblance. "Your family?" Lena asked as they settled at the table with the food.

Emily cast a fond smile at the pictures. "Yes. As much as I miss da, he had a good, full life with lots of love. I don't know what I'd do without my brothers and sisters. What about you, are there people worrying about you right now? You're welcome to ring anyone you like, even if there's a charge to connect."

"Just me, these days," Lena said, forcing herself to sound cheerful about it. Overwatch had been her family, and they were scattered to the nine winds now. The cost for her to reach out to them wasn't anything as simple as a monetary fee. 

No doubt the U.N. was monitoring the former agents whose whereabouts were known, making sure they weren't nefariously plotting together. If Lena contacted all of them she knew how to reach, the government might well think she was trying to resurrect Overwatch in some way, the bloody gits. Of the people she most wanted one last word with, the ones she'd risk reaching out to...

Commander Morrison and Captain Amali were both reported dead, their loss a crippling blow not just to Overwatch, but to the good of the world. Winston and Genji had vanished into hiding, too distinctive to try to blend into normal society, their only hope of survival to stay out of sight and out of contact. 

Angela ran a big field hospital now, and Lena wouldn't risk drawing negative attention down on her, potentially harming her ability to help all those people. Likewise Torbjorn and his enormous family, all of whom might suffer negative consequences if the governments suspected he was going active again. Reinhardt was out there somewhere, still fighting the glorious battle, but she had no idea how to reach him.

Despite her attempt at good cheer, some of her loneliness must have leaked through, because Emily was regarding her with a sympathetic look. Lena shook her head, silently asking the other woman not to express that pity. Not only would it exacerbate the negative emotions to acknowledge them, but Lena found she very much didn't want this woman to think less of her in any way.

"Tell me what you've been doing to stay focused," Emily said instead, apparently catching the unspoken cue. "I heard you moving around sometimes, and I assume you're trying to stave off the effects. I thought you'd want to expend as little energy as possible."

Lena outlined her actions and why she'd taken them, explaining about how focusing on physical sensations helped hold her to the present. Emily nodded thoughtfully. Then she started asking questions, mostly about exactly how Lena used the accelerator's glitches in battle, and the effects those instabilities had on her over time. They were the same sort of questions Winston had often asked when Lena came in for a tune-up, which made her hopeful Emily might be able to help her after all.

Finally, as they lingered over the last of their brownies, Emily sighed and propped her chin on her hand, giving Lena a regretful look. "You've been blipping in and out this whole time. I'm piecing together a lot of what you're telling me through context, missing parts of or even whole words sometimes."

Dismay raced through her, a sensation of ice cascading down Lena's spine. She hadn't realized it had gotten _that_ bad. "Whole words?"

"Short ones, but yes. And it's gotten noticeably worse through this conversation." Emily frowned, tapping one long nail against her fork. "I think your experience in 'blinking', as you call it, is helping you at the moment. Skips like this probably would have thrown you out of sync again back when you first started adjusting, but now you're accustomed to re-syncing yourself after a short timehop. I suspect you're using the accelerator less than you think to recover from those micro-jumps."

Hope blossomed, though it was tempered by the fact that Emily didn't seem optimistic about what she was saying. "So I might be able to re-sync myself without it?"

Immediately Emily shook her head, crushing that fragile hope. "Not long-term. I do believe it's helping you hold on longer, which can only be a good thing. But..."

"Will it be long enough?" Lena finished the dismal thought for her, unable to keep the pain and fear out of her voice this time. "How long d'you think til you have some kind of working prototype, at least?"

"I think I might, just possibly, be grasping the tail end of the theory behind it all." Emily sighed, clearly aware her words weren't at all what Lena wanted to hear. "If I continue at this rate of progress, assuming I don't trip over any new theoretical landmines that blow up everything I thought I knew about relativity theory... maybe a week?"

Closing her eyes, Lena pressed the heels of her hands against them, trying to hold back the burning sensation of tears that wanted to form. She _would not_ cry, damn it. She would go out with her head held high, in dignity and honour, like an Overwatch agent should. Like Jack Morrison had, fighting for his people and his organization to the bitter end. Granted, he hadn't known he was going to die when headquarters was bombed by Talon, but she had no doubt he'd have faced it down with the same gritty determination he showed every other challenge in life.

"Don't give up yet." Emily reached out and patted her back, the touch awkward. Then she seemed to think better of it, resting her hand on Lena's shoulder, squeezing tight as if offering another anchor to the present. 

"I won't." Squaring her shoulders - though she was careful not to throw off Emily's reassuring touch - Lena pulled her hands away and looked her would-be saviour straight in the eyes. "I'll do whatever it damn well takes. I believe in you."

* * *

Brave words were easy to say in the moment. Not so easy to hold onto as time continued to slip through her fingers - figuratively and literally. Hour by hour she faded away, unable to halt the inevitable progression. Split-second glitches turned to seconds, each time longer than the last. It was hard for Lena to tell how much time passed between each, because to _her_ time seemed to continue apace. She took to watching the telly constantly, even though she had difficulty following plotlines due to missed dialogue and actions, because it gave her a way to track how much she was losing.

Too much. Seconds turned to minutes. Lena drank cup after cup of strong tea and coffee, knowing that the moment she fell asleep it would all be over. Dreams were always the most dangerous time, because she couldn't stop herself from blinking - or worse, rewinding. As tenuous as her grip on the timeline was, deliberately throwing herself out of sync would be the end of her.

When she realized she could no longer taste the espresso she was drinking, Lena finally broke down and cried. Huddled into a corner of the sofa, she wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face in her knees. She'd meant to stay strong, really she had. But pride and determination could only do so much, and she was terrified.

"Lena?"

Despite repeated invitations, it was the first time Emily had called her by given name. Cursing under her breath, Lena wiped her eyes hastily. Of _course_ the other woman would choose this moment to come out of her lab for the first time in hours. Taking a deep, bracing breath, she looked up and summoned a smile that only wobbled a little at the edges. "I'm okay. Sorry, did I disturb you?"

Emily frowned, looking around the room in confusion. "Huh. Strange. I could've sworn I heard..." Turning, she headed for the back door. "Lena? Where'd you go?"

An icy fist buried itself in Lena's solar plexus, driving all the air out of her lungs and leaving her shuddering with cold and fear. "I'm right here," she protested, though it was clear Emily didn't see her. "Em! I'm right here! Damn it!"

With a wordless cry she jumped to her feet and lunged at the other woman, as if the physical action could force her back into sync. To her shock, her hand connected with Emily's arm and stayed there, solid and real. Emily jumped with a shriek and spun around, hand pressed to her chest as if to hold her heart inside her ribs, eyes wide.

"Sorry!" Lena apologized, but she couldn't put any real regret into the word. She did feel bad for scaring Emily, but she couldn't feel bad about the fact that it had worked. "I didn't mean to give you a fright. Can you hear me?"

"Yes." Reaching up, Emily covered Lena's hand on her arm with her own, squeezing tight. "You're here, I can see and feel and hear you. I thought I heard..."

She hesitated, and Lena sighed and finished for her. "Me crying like a baby? Yeah. Guess even my famous cheer has its limits."

To her shock, Emily let go of her hand and reached out, gathering her into a hug instead. Lena resisted for a bare moment, then gave in to the need for reassurance and human contact, collapsing against Emily's chest and burying her face in the taller woman's shoulder. She managed not to cry again, but she shivered with the force of the sobs that strained to get out, bottled up in her chest until she thought she would explode.

Emily wrapped her arms tight around Lena with no sign of reserve or hesitation, even rocked her like one might a frightened child. "It's okay," she murmured, over and over again. "It's okay, I've got you. I won't let you go."

Even though she knew the words were empty, that nothing and no one could hold her here much longer, Lena sank into the other woman's embrace and let herself cling to that one last shred of hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually, Lena suffered an inevitable loss to the battle against sleep. Her rest was fitful at best, full of nightmares. When she woke, groggy and disoriented, she was dismayed but not surprised to find the world smothered in blue.

When fully disassociated, Lena was still aware of the rest of the world, but it was at one remove. Like she'd been wrapped in gossamer strands of insulating blue silk, colouring her perception and muffling her senses. She could hear, but not feel. See, but not taste. It was a bit like a badly programmed VR simulation, except this was no virtual reality she could unplug from when she got bored of the game. This was her life for the foreseeable future, unless Emily could do the impossible.

While in this state she required no food, technically didn't need sleep though napping was one of the few ways she had to pass the time. Winston had never figured out how she interacted with air in order to breathe, but his theory was that she _didn't_ \- her body simply went through the motions because it knew it should. Apparently, she became a 'fixed point in time' as far as her physical body was concerned.

Why her mind continued uninterrupted no matter what her body did - blinking forward, rewinding, or total disassociation - was a question best left to the priests and philosophers. They certainly hadn't found any kind of scientific explanation. 

Frustrated and despondent, Len dragged herself into the lab and found Emily had succumbed to sleep as well. The scientist had crossed her arms on the table and laid her head on them, likely telling herself she would 'just close her eyes for a moment'. The pieces of the accelerator lay spread out over every surface of the lab, delicate components and circuitry set out in precise patterns, probably so Emily could remember how they connected. 

All of the holodisplays had been wiped clean of whatever formulae were on them when Lena had arrived, and new complex equations and graphs filled every available inch of space. It was clear that Emily had been working hard, pushing herself to the limit to try to beat an impossible deadline.

Settling into the seat next to her, Lena reached out to stroke her hand over the other woman's hair. She felt nothing, other than perhaps a faint sense of pressure against her fingertips. She could see the strands were frizzy and dishevelled, as if Emily had been running her fingers through it as she worked.

Emily had her head turned slightly to the side, enough for Lena to see the bruised circles under her eyes and pallor of her cheeks that made her freckles stand out in stark relief, even through the blue haze. 

"Sorry, love," Lena murmured, brushing her hand over Emily's hair again even though it would make neither of them feel better. "All that work for nothing. I shouldn't have come. At least then _you_ wouldn't be suffering, and it's not like I'd be any worse off."

Emily stirred at that moment, lifting her head and pushing tangled hair back away from her face, glancing around with a sleepy, confused gaze. "Lena?"

Lena went still, hardly daring to hope. "It's me. Can you hear me? Emily?" Sometimes she came close enough to being in sync that others could see or hear her for brief periods.

"I don't..." Shaking her head, Emily looked around the room, her gaze passing right through Lena as if she wasn't there. Because to the rest of time, she wasn't. "I thought I heard something..."

 _Willing_ herself to sync with all the fierce determination she was known for, Lena concentrated hard and raised her voice. "I'm here!"

"Oh!" Emily definitely reacted that time, jumping and staring around with a more wild look. She still showed no signs of spotting Lena, but at least she'd heard. "Blast and damn, you've disassociated, haven't you? I'm so sorry. I swear, I tried everything I could."

"I know you did." Sighing, Lena braced her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands. "It's not your fault, love."

Hesitating, Emily tipped her head to one side, as if listening hard. "I can't quite understand what you're saying, but I know you're there. Bloody hell, I should've asked if you'd be able to hear _me_ while you're like this. _Don't give up_. I'm making progress. I know Overwatch got you out of this state at least once before, so it's possible to do. Hang on, stay close, and I swear I'll get you out of this."

Overwatch had built an entire specialized room with equipment meant to help hold her in time, the first iteration of what eventually became the accelerator. Even then, it had been a struggle to keep Lena synced for long, and getting the accelerator on her and activated before she blinked out again had taken multiple tries. Without all that, Lena didn't see what chance she had of staying synced long enough for any prototype Emily built to actually take hold.

But it was clear Emily was going to work herself to the bone, if that was what it took. It would be heartless and ungrateful for Lena to put her through all that and then not be here to at least _try_. Besides, not like she had any better options waiting in the wings. She _wasn't_ giving up. Not while there was breath in her body.

A shiver worked its way down her spine. Lena tried very hard not to consider that if Winston's theory was right, there actually _wasn't_ breath left in her body at all.

* * *

In all her nightmares of her hellish months spent disassociated, Lena had actually managed to forget the single worst aspect of being a ghost.

The utter, unrelenting, bloody _boredom_.

She might be out of sync with time, but it was only by picoseconds. It wasn't as if time didn't pass for her. It skipped around sometimes, just as it had when she was still mostly in touch with reality, but by and large she had hours and hours and _hours_ to exist. She couldn't read, unable to hold a book or interact with anything. She could 'exercise', but there was no effort to it, no burn in her muscles, no sensory feedback at all. Doing useless pushups got old fast.

Most of her time was spent in the lab, watching Emily work. Not the most fascinating thing, since Lena couldn't follow what was being done, but better than staring at the grass growing. Once in a while, maybe a few times a day, she would drift close enough to normal time that if Lena concentrated very hard, Emily would be aware of her. 

Sometimes she could get the other woman to hear her, though never enough for actual understanding and conversation. Other times she apparently flickered in and out of sight like the ghost she sometimes called herself. This was how she'd first managed to manifest to Overwatch, letting them know she was alive. Out of reach, but not gone entirely. 

Watching Emily work at the holodisplay the second afternoon, Lena drummed her fingers soundlessly on the tabletop. Emily had the display set to stylus mode, and was using her fingertip to write equations on the projected surface. Reactive holotech was far from Lena's area of expertise, but she was pretty sure it functioned by reading the disruptions a person's finger caused in the light beams projected by the computer, using some sort of three-dimensional positioning algorithm.

Computers could process information in microsecond speeds, right? Advanced ones could work in picoseconds. Was it possible they could be fast enough to detect Lena's movements, even though she was out of sync? 

Probably not, but who knew? As Winston - and now Emily - kept reminding her, Lena's very existence broke most of the known laws of physics. She wouldn't hurt anything by trying.

Moving to stand next to where Emily was working, Lena reached out one finger to the 'surface' of the projection, and focused as hard as she could on syncing with real time. When she pressed her finger against the display, for a split second, nothing happened.

Then a glowing dot appeared beneath her fingertip.

Eyes wide, she drew a line downward. It came out so shaky it looked like a child's attempt at a lightning bolt, because her hands were trembling, but it was _there_. She could see it.

A moment later Emily spotted it as well, nearly writing right over it as she scrawled an equation over the surface. She paused, frowning at the mark. "Huh. Weird." Then she wiped the edge of her hand across the display, erasing that section of it. "Must've been a glitch."

Frustrated, Lena retreated to a relatively clear space on one of the other boards. The delayed reaction of the computer to her movements meant she couldn't write fast enough for Emily to realize it _was_ writing before she would clear it away. She'd have to write first, then hope the other woman noticed.

Bottom lip held firmly between her teeth as she concentrated, Lena wrote across the board with as much careful precision as she could manage. The more she wrote, the better she got the hang of the timing required to make the computer register her. 

After one lousy word, she had a headache from focusing so fiercely. Lena thought it grossly unfair that the one thing she could still feel was the strain of her own mind. But she'd _done it_. She'd communicated, left proof of her presence. Now if only Emily would turn around and see it.

When the other woman turned away instead, headed back to her workbench, Lena gathered her remaining strength and shouted into the void. As she'd hoped, some fraction of the sound reached Emily, who jumped in surprise and looked around. "Lena? You sound upset."

Not upset, just frustrated and cranky. But it had attracted Emily's attention, and that was all that mattered. The scientist's eyes finally caught on the shaky line of script Lena had put on the holodisplay, and her lips stretched in an incredulous smile.

_Thanks_

"Lena! Oh my gosh, that's fantastic." She clapped her hands together, eyes shining. "We can finally talk! Here, let me save that data and clear a space."

She did so, wiping the whole board except for Lena's first wavering attempt. Biting her lip again, Lena reached out and wrote, keeping it as simple as possible to conserve her strength. 

_Hard_

"It's difficult?" Emily translated. "Well, that makes sense. I have no idea how you're doing this at all. Um, _can_ you hear me? I should have asked back when you were still synced."

Smiling despite herself, Lena wrote again. 

_Y_

"Why didn't I ask?" Emily shook her head. "I was so determined to fix this for you, I didn't bother to spend any time thinking ahead to contingency plans."

Rolling her eyes, Lena tried again. 

_Yes_

"Yes? I don't... _oh_ , you weren’t asking why, you were answering my first question. Yes, you can hear me." Emily smacked her forehead with one hand. "Is that right?"

_Y_

"All right, for yes or no questions, let's say a vertical line is a yes, a horizontal line is a no," Emily declared. "That should save you some effort. How long can you... argh. Yes or no questions. Can you keep this up long, do you think?"

The system was brilliant, simple and easy. Lena drew a horizontal line, which was much less effort than an N.

"Damn. Not too surprising, I guess." Emily tapped her foot, hands on her hips, apparently thinking hard. "Can you always hear me? Or do you lose track of reality sometimes? No wait, that's two questions. Can you always hear me?"

Lena hesitated, then drew a wavy vertical line. Emily stared at it for a moment, then smiled. "Is that a 'mostly yes'?"

Vertical line, as Lena grinned back at her. This was frustrating, but certainly more fun than anything else she'd been doing the past few days.

"While I've got you, then, I might as well get some information." Clearing a different holodisplay, Emily poised herself to take notes.

Then she grilled Lena as thoroughly as any Overwatch debriefing she'd ever suffered through. Mostly it was questions about how she experienced the dissociation - what senses functioned and what didn't, whether it was constant or fluctuating, if it was different from what she'd experienced in the past, and more. There were also questions about how exactly Lena had utilized the instabilities in the accelerator in battle, turning glitches into powerful fighting techniques.

Mostly they were able to keep it to yes and no questions, but sometimes Lena had to give more detailed answers. The longer they went, the worse Lena's headache got, until she could hardly focus her eyes on the board. In fact... she looked around, realizing _everything_ was fading into a blue-washed haze, details becoming indistinct as she drifted further out of sync. And the word she'd been trying to write was still unfinished, though she'd made the motions for the last two letters already.

Frustrated with herself and her circumstances, Lena slashed her hand across the display in a furious motion. It created a jagged diagonal mark across all her previous writing, but even it trailed off at the end as anger faded and her focus along with it.

Emily jumped as the mark appeared, then sighed and rubbed at her temple as if she had a headache, too. "Sorry. I guess you must be exhausted. You've given me a lot to think about for now, so that's good. I really wish I could have seen your abilities in action, that might have provided some insights. It's too bad we can't..."

The rest of her words disappeared into a rush of static, and Lena cried burning tears as she lost her tenuous grip on the world.


	4. Chapter 4

Emily started making sure one board was always left clear for Lena's use. They quickly developed an elaborate form of code to allow them to better communicate - in fact, Emily pulled up old, _old_ internet tutorials on stenography and classic shorthand techniques, things that had long since fallen out of use with the advent of recorders and steadily improving voice-to-text technology, a hundred years ago.

It wasn't as if Lena had anything better to do than study the tutorials. She couldn't scroll through the pages, so Emily printed them out and taped them up on the walls of her living room, allowing Lena to see them all at once.

Whenever she had the strength of focus and clarity to allow her to interact with the computer, Lena would draw a big slash across the board to try to catch Emily's attention. Of course, it didn't always work. The scientist had an impressive ability to focus as well, and she was grimly determined to do whatever it took to recreate the accelerator technology.

On those occasions, Lena took to leaving messages anyway, carefully crafting the sentences to be seen whenever Emily did finally look up. At first they were on topic, answers to previous questions that she hadn't had the strength to give, or things she'd forgotten to mention that might be relevant. Pretty soon, they turned to scolding reminders for Emily to bloody well take care of herself, as the other woman frequently forgot to eat, or fell asleep at her worktable.

Emily accepted the chiding messages gracefully, usually giving a rueful smile to thin air. "I bet you're just as bad," she teased on the fourth night, as she trudged into the kitchen to heat up a frozen meal. "You strike me as the type to forget that you can't _literally_ be always on the move. You're like a puppy with too much energy, and you use it all up in a frenzy, then keel over exhausted."

Since that was more or less exactly what she'd done on several missions, Lena was just as glad that Emily couldn't see her blush. Captain Amali had in fact once made nearly the same comment about her resembling a puppy, flopping over onto the nearest marginally comfortable horizontal surface the moment the drop ship was in the air and on autopilot. 

Still, there remained an awful lot of time when Lena was too exhausted to focus enough to write, but with it enough to be aware of time passing and utterly bored. In desperation, at the end of one writing session she scribbled, _Talk to me_

Emily blinked at it. "Bloody hell, have you not heard me this time? But you were answering my questions."

_Bored_

"Right, of course. I can hardly imagine." Emily frowned, tapping a microtool against the workbench. "What do you want me to talk about?"

_Yourself_

"Me?" Emily blushed, the pink hue to her cheeks clashing prettily with her freckles. "Not much to tell. Why would you want to hear about that?"

_Please_

"Not fair," Emily complained. "I bet you're making puppy eyes at me, too. It'll slow me down, you know. I won't be able to concentrate as well if I'm rambling on."

_Not going anywhere_

"No, I suppose not." Emily's voice was sad and contemplative. "The worst has already happened, hasn't it? I guess if there's no chance of worse side effects if you stay this way too long, there's no reason for me to drive myself mental trying to rush."

A horrible thought occurred to Lena. Presumably Emily hadn't been sitting about watching paint dry before Lena had come along. She must have a life outside of this, projects she was working on. Maybe deadlines she was missing, or a job that might fire her. Hell, a significant other who might dump her, though Lena had seen no sign of that.

_Your work? Trouble?_

It took Emily a second to work that one out. "You let me worry about that. I've got plenty of savings from the inheritance Da left, and he'd want nothing more than for me to use it to help save you. Don't argue!" she added sharply, as Lena started to scribble out a protest. "This is my choice. Besides, I'm going to end up winning the sodding Nobel Prize for this, you know."

That prize should have gone to Winston first, but Lena knew he'd never have a chance to be acknowledged for his genius. Then again, while Winston might have been the first to discover all this, it wasn't as if Emily was using his work to further hers. She was working from the same base Winston had started with, and being just as brilliant.

Then Emily surprised Lena and won her heart by adding, "If we ever find that friend of yours, the gorilla, he and I can write the paper together and both get credit. I assume he couldn't publish because it was classified, but Overwatch is gone, so who's going to get mad? I'm sure we can find a way to prove the new theorems and laws of physics without needing to skirt into classified territory, anyway."

Lena drew a big heart, followed by _XOXO_. Emily laughed, and blushed. "Oh, go on with you, then." 

_Talk?_

With a sigh, Emily threw her hands up. "All right. Don't say I didn't warn you. I guess at least I won't be able to tell if you doze off from boredom. But I'm going to make you pay me back in the end, you know."

_Buy you coffee_

Emily stared at it, and then blushed again. "Are... you asking me on a date?"

Lena had only meant to say that she'd be happy to tell Emily anything she wanted, and make a treat out of it. But that wasn't the blush of someone who was embarrassed by an unwanted come-on. It was the blush of someone who'd just been asked out by her high school crush. Grinning, Lena drew another, bigger heart, and was rewarded when the usually-composed scientist giggled in response.

Emily promptly slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "You're a bad influence on me," she said after a moment. She was fighting to keep her tone stern, but her lips kept kicking up at the corners. "Yes, I'd love to have coffee. So I guess I'd better get back to work while I talk."

* * *

The next several days were better, though not 'good' by any stretch of the imagination. Still, Lena loved to sit in the workroom and listen to Emily's stories about her life, her family, and her work. Apparently she was a researcher at a lab attached to Oxford, though not a teaching professor. Lena had always assumed civilian life would be less fraught than that of an Overwatch agent, but she quickly learned that though they might not be shot at on a regular basis, scientists and academics dealt with at _least_ as much drama as existed on a military base. 

Possibly more, actually. It was like listening to the plot of a soap opera, full of convoluted relationships and twisting revelations. Emily was a good storyteller, engaging and descriptive, and Lena soon felt like she knew these people she'd never met.

In return, she started leaving little notes for Emily, all over the lab. Lots of hearts and 'you can do it!' messages, short but sweet. These messages she didn't draw attention to, just watched and waited in delight for Emily to stumble across them.

Every time Emily found one, she'd smile. Drawing out that sweet expression became Lena's favourite pastime. One night while Emily slept, she even painstakingly wrote out lines of half remembered love poems and Shakespearean sonnets. This time when Emily saw the first one, she blushed, and Lena giggled to herself.

"Oh, now, this is too much," Emily laughed when she found the third one, halfway through the day. "You said writing gives you headaches, this must be painful for you. There's no need to butter me up, you know."

In answer, Lena drew another heart, beside the poetry so Emily wouldn't miss it. She was happy to deal with the exhaustion and pain in order to lift the other woman's spirits. It was the least she could do in repayment, but more importantly, she _enjoyed_ it. 

Lena was a romantic, always had been. She devoured romance novels and movies, loved it when all the elements came together in _just_ the right way and the result was a truly happy ending for everyone involved. 

The irony was that she'd never really dated, beyond some fumbling attempts as a young adolescent. Her teenage years had been too driven, too focused on her goal of becoming one of the best pilots in the world and joining Overwatch to be a hero. There hadn't been time left over for romance.

Now she had all the time in the world, and a woman worth the effort. Lena was going to put every trick and tip she'd ever learned from her stories to use, and then some. 

* * *

 

"Lena! Lena, are you here? Lena!"

Jolted out of what passed for a doze in her current state, Lena lifted her head from the table and looked around blearily. The blue haze was so thick she could barely make out the fact that she was in the lab, and Emily's voice sounded like it was passing through a very long tunnel to reach her.

Grimacing, she rubbed her eyes hard, concentrating on reality as she did. When she opened them again, she was able to see better. Emily was standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, turning in slow circles as she checked each holodisplay in turn. "Lena? If you can, please let me know you're listening, at least."

Feeling groggy and disconnected, Lena seriously contemplated ignoring the request. Her head was throbbing with the expected backlash of writing that poetry - it had taken a while to catch up with her, but when it hit, it struck with a vengeance. Answering would take everything she had left, and make the headache that much worse.

But Emily looked frantic, so Lena shook her head and hauled herself up out of the chair, staggering over to 'her' display. It took her three tries, but she finally managed to sync up enough to get the computer to register a single, wobbly line on the board.

"Bloody hell." Emily stared at the line, expression dismayed. "That doesn't look good. Are you okay?" Lena groaned at the thought of trying to make another line, but Emily shook her head a moment later. "Never mind, you're obviously in no state to answer, and that's answer enough. Love, I think I've got it!"

Distracted by that 'love' - an endearment Lena often used casually but which Emily never had - Lena didn't quite understand at first. Then the meaning hit her, the only thing Emily would be _this_ worked up about.

Ironically, excitement at the prospect of a working accelerator actually pushed Lena farther out of sync as her concentration broke. Frustrated, she focused with everything she had, straining to get as close to real time as she could. 

It must have worked, because Emily gasped and reached out toward Lena. "I see you! Sort of. Bollocks, how am I supposed to get this sodding thing on you?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Lena gave her a rueful smile in return. She brushed her hand over Emily's, unable to feel the contact but wanting to acknowledge the other woman's attempt to connect. 

"Field of effect," Emily muttered, staring at her hand where Lena had touched it, as if that would somehow give her an answer. "You said they built a room that could stabilize you for short periods. I don't have the equipment for something that big, but if I could create a small, brief field of effect, that might let you hold long enough to get the accelerator on you. Now that I understand the theory - sort of - I should be able to do that."

She glanced up, then sighed. "I've lost you again. I'm worried you're getting more out of sync as time goes on. This is the worst you've been yet. Can you hang on another day or two?"

With one more massive effort that left her head pounding hard enough to see stars, Lena managed another shaky vertical line on the display. She could hold on. She _would_ hold on, no matter what it took. She hadn't given up the first time she'd gotten lost, when she'd thought there was no chance of finding her way back. This time, she had hope.

And Emily had called her 'love'.


	5. Chapter 5

It got harder and harder for Lena to interact with the holoboards as time went on. The more she pushed, the worse the backlash seemed to be, hours spent almost entirely out of touch with the world. That had happened before, when she'd strained so hard to tell Overwatch that she was still alive and trapped. 

Still, she couldn't make herself stop trying. That communication with Emily, however brief and frustrating, was her only remaining link to the rest of the world. 

Besides, the woman _continued_ not to properly care for herself, and Lena didn't want Emily working herself into the grave trying to solve a problem that might not be solvable. So she left as many messages as she could, reminding Emily to eat or sleep, and at the same time reassuring her that Lena was still there.

The result was that she spent a lot of time drifting in a blue haze. She 'napped' a lot, though she wasn't sure if it was real sleep or her mind doing a sort of shut down to protect her sanity. Being badly out of sync was close to total sensory deprivation, and that could be used to torture a person. It certainly felt like torture.

She was sitting with her head pillowed on her arms, more or less unconscious, when the world suddenly seemed to drop out from under her. For a horrible moment she floundered in a daze, feeling like she was in freefall. Then reality slammed back into her with the force of a jet plane, and she gasped, struggling to open her eyes.

Emily's frantic voice reached her, brogue heavier than Lena had yet heard it. "Lena! Love, please, you have to concentrate. Can you hear me? I need to get this on you and I don't know how long the field effect will last. Lena, wake up!"

With great effort Lena forced herself to focus. When she opened her eyes, for the first time in a week the haze of blue was so thin she could make out muddied versions of other colours. Emily crouched beside her, clutching the repaired accelerator. When she saw Lena was looking, she thrust the bundle of straps and electronics at her. "Put it on, hurry!"

Up to that moment, the words had been nothing more than a collection of sounds, not coming together to form real meaning in Lena's mind. Finally her brain rebooted enough for her to understand what Emily was saying, what the weird shift and all the colours meant.

She was _so close_ to being in sync again.

Now just as frantic as Emily, Lena lunged for the accelerator, and nearly sobbed when her hands met resistance instead of passing right through it. Even so, she couldn't get an actual grasp on it, couldn't lift it out of Emily's hands to pull it over her head. Frustrated and frightened, Lena fought the urge to cry. Tears wouldn't accomplish anything, and there'd be plenty of time for that later, if this failed.

"Help me!" Lena gestured for Emily to lift the accelerator and throw it over Lena's head. If her hands couldn't pass through it, hopefully that meant it couldn't pass through her, either.

Quickly untangling the straps, Emily held the back and front pieces apart and raised it enough for Lena to duck in underneath. The straps settled down onto her shoulders, a bizarre there-not-there pressure that her body didn't know how to interpret. Praying with all her might, Lena slapped the button that would initiate the accelerator.

Nothing happened.

The initiation _had_ to come from her, because that was the only way to be sure she was in sync with it enough for it to work properly. If Lena was still too far out, Emily could turn the bloody thing on and off all day, and it would have no effect on Lena. 

Screaming in defiance of the universe that hated her, Lena concentrated more fiercely than she'd ever done before, and hit the button again. This time she could feel the button depress, and the accelerator spun to life.

Scent flooded her like a slap to the face. Ozone, burnt coffee, and a whiff of human sweat made her reel with the impact. Sound crashed in a moment later, everything from the hum of the computer to the distant drip of a leaky faucet. Texture sprang into existence beneath her fingertips, slick plastic, cool metal, and the rough nylon of the straps.

Sight was another matter, and for a moment Lena panicked as she thought her inability to bring anything in the room into focus meant she was still out of sync. Then she realized it was because she was viewing the room through the tears welling up in her eyes, spilling out despite her best efforts to hold them back. She stopped bothering to try, because the relief racing through her was far too intense to hide.

"You did it! Oh my god, Em, you really did it!" Lena's words were half laugh, half sob, and she flung herself at Emily. Wrapping her arms around the other woman, she clung tight enough to probably squeeze the breath out of the poor girl.

Emily didn't seem to mind, wrapping her arms around Lena in turn in a hold no less fiercely triumphant. "Thank god. I was so scared it wouldn't work, that I wouldn't be able to get your attention before the chronal field generator failed. The blasted thing's so slapdash it might as well be made of bailing wire and bubble gum, but I didn't want to risk waiting long enough to be able to order or manufacture more permanent parts, just in case you..."

Realizing the other woman was babbling from relief - and possibly sleep deprivation - Lena impulsively leaned in and silenced her with a kiss. Even with nothing more than a brush of closed lips against lips, Emily tasted of strong coffee and sweet chocolate, instantly addicting. Lena wanted nothing more than to press close and slip her tongue inside, seek out more of that intoxicating flavour, but she wasn’t yet sure that level of intimacy would be welcome.

Blushing, she pulled back to smile sheepishly at Emily. "Sorry, should've asked first, but I've been dying to do that for days." Emily sat there staring at her, wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked, apparently stunned silent. Concerned that she had crossed the line, Lena added tentatively, "Emily? I really am sorry. Please don't be upset, I won't do it again."

"What?" Blinking, Emily seemed to come back to life, surprise and dismay flitting through her expression. "No! Oh god, no, _please_ do that again, it's only that I thought I was dreaming... argh." Abandoning words entirely, she slid one hand into the hair at the back of Lena's head, and pulled her in for a much hotter, wetter kiss.

This time they met with mouths open, tongues tangling in a duel for dominance, seeking out sensitive places in each other's mouths. Lena shivered at the heat of it, moaning when Emily nipped at her bottom lip, then sucked away the tiny pain.

Starving for sensation, Lena slid her hands down Emily's back to the hem of her sweater, then back up again beneath. The other woman's skin was smooth and silky, and very sensitive judging by the way Emily shuddered and cried out. Lena stroked her way up Emily's spine, fingers playing over the knobs and ridges like an instrument, wringing a symphony of sexy sounds from the woman's throat. 

Breaking the kiss to gasp for air, Emily nuzzled against Lena's cheek, groaning. "I was so afraid I'd fail, that I'd never be able to touch you. Wouldn't it be just my bloody luck to finally find a sweet, caring, sexy lass and only be able to have her haunt me. It's barely been a week, we hardly know each other, but..."

She cried out and arched her back as Lena raked her nails down the other woman's spine. Laughing in wicked delight, Lena did it again, and nipped at Emily's collarbone. "But it's been one hell of an introduction," she finished for her. "I think we can safely say we've passed the equivalency for at least the second date, wouldn't you?"

"Depends," Emily panted, both hands now fisted in Lena's hair and tugging - not to make her stop, but to encourage her to continue. "Are you the type that puts out on the second date? Because if not, I'm arguing for third date or more."

Giggling, Lena trailed her mouth down over the sweet curve of Emily's breast, regretting the thin fabric of the t-shirt in her way but not willing to let go long enough to strip it off. To her delight, she discovered that Emily didn't wear a bra, her perky nipples pressed tight against stretchy fabric. Lena kissed one, moving her hand to cup the soft mound as she sucked at the nipple through the cloth. Emily's breasts were small but solid, little apples the perfect size for Lena's tiny hands.

"I want to taste you," she murmured as she switched sides, mouthing at the neglected breast. "Skin to skin. All of you." She was drunk on sensation, high on the taste and feel of Emily, and she wanted more. She wanted _all_.

"Yes, please!" Emily let go to reach for the hem of her sweater, and Lena reluctantly leaned back enough to let her pull it over her head. She was glorious, slender but curvy, with peach skin flecked with thousands of darker spots.

"Ooh, they go all the way down!" Lena closed the gap again, both hands now kneading Emily's breasts, as she started kissing the freckles scattered across Emily's chest.

"Don't tease, love. I hate them." Emily was blushing, and that went down pretty far too, a lovely flush of rose tinting the peach.

"Hate them? Why? They're brilliant." Lena grinned up at her. "I'm going to make it a mission to kiss every single one. And I take my missions seriously, I'll have you know."

She suited actions to words, kissing her way down, occasionally pausing to suck a darker red mark onto the pale skin. Emily didn't seem to mind the branding, moaning each time and clutching Lena tighter to her. 

They'd turned in their chairs to sit sideways, facing each other. Now Lena urged Emily forward, up onto her lap with the other woman's legs on either side of Lena's hips. It spread Emily's thighs wide, her knee-length pleated skirt sliding up until it barely covered the necessities. "This won't work," Emily complained, shifting to try to settle her weight. "I'm taller than you."

"I know," Lena agreed happily, nuzzling at one of the breasts so perky and sweet right at her face level. "It's perfect. Means I can do _this_."

She sucked the nipple into her mouth, flicking lightly with her tongue as Emily cried out. Lena wrapped one arm around Emily's waist to brace her back, the other hand dropping to the woman's knee and skimming up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. When she hit the hem of the skirt, Lena looked up, a silent question in her eyes.

"God, yes," Emily moaned, arching her back as Lena bit lightly at her nipple. "I've been dreaming about this, about you, since you started leaving me those love poems. There you are, lost in time and scared mental, yet you were still thinking about making _me_ feel... better... ah!"

Encouraged by the way Emily clearly lost her train of thought, Lena rubbed her fingertips over the damp satin of the other woman's panties a second time. She stroked the fabric, shaping it against the sensitive flesh beneath, until she'd worked it between the outer folds. Now she could really feel the damp heat of it, while the soft silk help smooth the glide of her fingers over the hard bump of Emily's clit beneath.

"Oh, I'm definitely thinking about making you feel 'better'," Lena murmured against the tightly furled nipple, petting over Emily's clit again and again. "I've been thinking about making you feel plenty of things, in fact. I've had a loooot of time to think about all the things I want to do to you."

Deliberately, she flicked the edge of her nail over the sensitive bundle of nerves, knowing the fabric would soften what might otherwise be a painful touch. Emily cried out and shuddered, so Lena did it again, and again, pushing a little harder each time. Finally she got impatient with her own teasing, and nudged the satin out of the way, seeking soft, wet flesh beneath.

The proof of Emily's arousal was liquid honey against her fingers, easing the glide of skin against skin, so hot Lena almost thought she might burn. She circled Emily's opening, then dipped the very tips of her first two fingers inside. This time she didn't even get a chance to ask for permission before Emily was moaning, "Yes, please, more!"

Humming happily against Emily's nipple, Lena pushed her fingers deeper inside, going slow until she knew how tight the other woman was. _Very_ , as it turned out, even two fingers stretching her full. Lena would have to be careful, but it wasn't as if she minded taking the time. Emily was so beautiful, writhing on Lena's fingers, clutching Lena's head to her breast, crying out with each twist of Lena's fingers.

Even going slow, it only took a moment before Lena's fingers were all the way inside, as deep as she could get. Shifting her hand, Lena settled the heel of her palm against Emily's clit and rocked gently, back and forth, in time with the movement of her fingers within. Easy, gentle thrusts, slow, torturous rocking, each movement marginally faster than the one before.

"You're killing me," Emily groaned. "Lena! Please."

"But you're so pretty like this," Lena praised her, switching sides to lick at the neglected nipple. "I love the way you arch for me. Your moans are so beautiful when you beg. I _knew_ you'd be gorgeous."

"I'm getting you back for this," Emily warned, the threat made less intimidating by the breathy quality of her voice. "You know that, right?"

"Counting on it," Lena assured her with a grin. Then she twisted her hand again, curling it awkwardly so she could get her thumb on Emily's clit, while still pumping her fingers in and out of the other woman's body.

The harder, more directed pressure was enough to spill Emily over the edge, her orgasm ripping through her and making her inner muscles clench tight around Lena's fingers. Carefully Lena worked her through it, gentling her strokes but letting Emily ride her hand in whatever way the other woman needed. 

"Enough," Emily finally pleaded, her voice broken. She tugged at Lena's hair, trying to get her to stop sucking. "I can't take any more."

"Mmm." Reluctantly Lena pulled away, though she only stilled her hand, not removing it. "I bet I could get you to change your mind."

"I'm not fool enough to take that bet," Emily replied, a deeply satisfied smile on her face. "Damn, you're good at that. I'd say you ought to be on 'Britain's Got Talent', but I'm not sure it falls under the 'family friendly' category."

Lena giggled. "It would certainly do interesting things to their ratings, yeah? Would I be demonstrating on you, or would I have to do the judges in order to impress them enough, d'you think?"

"Definitely on me." Emily tugged lightly again at her hair, the words firm. "You're _all_ mine." She paused, and an uncertain look crossed her face. "Er, I mean, if you _want_ to be. That is, I don't even know what you want..."

"You," Lena assured her, every bit as firm. "I want you, and I want you to be all mine, too. If we're on the third date equivalent, that's enough to decide to go steady, right?"

"Oh, we're definitely courting," Emily agreed, smile radiant again. "But right now, I want to make _you_ feel good."

"You already have," Lena said, fervent. "God, love, you have no idea. To be able to touch you... I could spend all bloody night just drowning myself in the taste of you."

"We've got time," Emily promised, carding her fingers through Lena's hair. "All the time in the world, now that you're back. It's my turn."

She leaned down for a sweet, deep kiss, soft and slow and surprisingly intense. Lena moaned into it, relinquishing control, more than happy to find out what Emily wanted to do to her. 

When they broke the kiss, Emily ran her hands over the front of the accelerator. "Since I assume we're _not_ taking this off for a while..." She paused, and Lena shook her head frantically. "No, didn't think so. Well, then, as much as I want to return the favour and taste your pretty breasts, I'll just have to start lower."

She slid back off Lena's lap, then continued down until she was kneeling on the floor in front of the chair. Hooking her fingers over Lena's waistband, she tugged at the tight pants, one eyebrow raised. Quickly Lena undid the fly, and between the two of them they made short work of shimmying the snug fabric down off her legs. Only when they were done did Lena realize her panties had gone too, leaving her bare and vulnerable from the waist down.

The rough fabric of the chair seat felt odd against her bare skin, but every sensation was precious at the moment, all the more so when it made her more aware of the erotic quality of her position. Emily braced her hands on Lena's knees and gently urged her to part them, spreading as wide enough to let Emily slip between them. 

Squirming with embarrassment and arousal both, Lena allowed Emily to keep pushing her knees apart, almost to the point of strain, so she was spread as wide as she possibly could be. Only then did Emily lean in, nuzzling at the sensitive skin of Len's inner thighs, dropping soft kisses and sharp nips along the line of the tendon. 

It was Lena's turn to bury her hands in Emily's hair, tangling the long strands around her fingers and savouring the silky feel of it. She didn't try to control the other woman's movements, only using the grip as encouragement and an anchor point to cling to.

Emily slid her hands higher and higher, until her thumbs traced over the outer folds of Lena's sex. Slipping them in further, she parted the folds and damp curls, spreading them to bare the slick flesh beneath to the cool air.

Then 'cool' was the last possible description Lena could use, as Emily's hot, hot mouth closed over her clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud. Lena cried out, hips jerking up, but Emily used her hands to hold Lena in place. She played her tongue over the nerves for a few moments, then _sucked_ , rolling the taut flesh against her tongue at the same time.

Screaming, Lena arched her back and clung desperately, writhing into that glorious pressure. It went on and on, unrelenting, pushing her higher and higher toward the peak. The cliff caught her off guard, rushing up on her so fast she didn't have a chance to see it coming before she was flying over the edge, her whole body shuddering with the force of the release.

When the fireworks subsided, she came back to find herself sprawled low in the chair, hands clenched in Emily's hair, panting and shivering from the aftermath. She tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a soft moan.

Sitting back on her heels, Emily licked her lips, as smug as the proverbial cat in cream. "Too fast?" she asked in an overly innocent tone, as if Lena hadn't been screaming her bloody head off in pleasure moments before. "Usually I indulge a bit more foreplay, but you were _so_ hot for it."

Summoning energy and coordination from some unknown reserve, Lena smacked her weakly on the shoulder. "It was perfect and you know it. Getting you off was all the foreplay I needed... for now." She gave her girlfriend a sly smile, and inwardly danced in glee at being able to use the word. 

"The night is young," Emily agreed. She pushed to her feet, and caught Lena's hands in hers, tugging her up as well. They made an odd pair, Emily with no top and Lena with no bottoms, but somehow they fit together so perfectly.

"I could love you," Lena confessed, uncharacteristically shy. "I really could. I'm halfway there already." How could she not be? Emily had thrown herself into the battle for Lena's life without hesitation or reservation, exhausting herself to do the impossible.

"Oh, my darling." Emily laughed, and cupped Lena's face in both hands. "Pretty sure I'm more than halfway. My brave and sweet girl."

They kissed again, and nothing had ever felt quite so right in Lena's life.


End file.
